Thanksgiving Myth Redeems History Even as It Obscures It

"The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth" (1914) by Jennie A. Brownscombe; Illustration by Bloomberg View

Nov. 22 (Bloomberg) -- The original Thanksgiving, in which
the new neighbors sat down to share bonhomie and barbecue with
the local homeowners association, is apparently something of a
myth. Who could’ve guessed?

Yes, some manner of extended, post-harvest celebration
occurred in 1621 at a new housing tract called Plymouth
Plantation. The recent arrivals to the New World having been
temporarily delivered from starvation, “for three days we
entertained and feasted,” wrote a grateful Edward Winslow. The
incumbent Wampanoags were sporting guests; at some point they
went off and killed five deer. They never made it back for pie.

Some contend that the gauzy layers we apply to such history
obscure a shameful past, absolving the sins of the forefathers
and holding the heirs blameless. We understand the sentiment.
But mythmaking is a more complicated business than just that.
There is a moral logic to it, one that evolves with the nation.

Consider Jennie Brownscombe’s 1914 oil painting of the
scene at Plymouth. She depicts a long table elegantly laid in a
field where nature has been tamed. Robust white settlers command
the eye, with a few high-ranking Indians wedged down at the
table’s remote end; their lower-status colleagues sit on the
ground. (True, they’re Plains Indians in elaborate Western
headdress, but at least they’re protected against the New
England winds, unlike the bare-chested heathens featured in
other iconic Thanksgiving portraits.) As two settlers approach
with additional food, a white man raises his hands, inviting the
blessings of his God.

By the time Brownscombe painted this idyll, the national
holiday was well situated, while the tribes had all but vanished
from the continent. The painter’s broad, generous sky, which
arches above the sacred feast, gives no hint of the equally
expansive violence that will unfold beneath it.

Does such a romantic vision distort harsh truths?
Certainly. But it’s a mistake to focus too resolutely on
Thanksgiving as whitewash. Our desire to imbue previous
generations with our best intentions reflects a slow accretion
of moral discernment. It’s a quality as evident in self-lacerating histories as in self-serving myths. In history,
dangerous radicals are transformed into courageous reformers,
detested minorities are recast as virtuous strivers, the
powerful and exalted reappear as murderous and corrupt.

As Americans re-enact the Thanksgiving tableau in a million
variations today, we unwittingly mark the Pilgrims’ progress.
Through a deft use of moral perspective, we repaint the original
landscape, bringing previously obscured parties to the
foreground. In the process, we grant the nation’s forebears a
wisdom that transcended their time. We can only hope that, 300
years from now, our descendants provide a similarly indulgent
cover for us.

Today’s highlights: the editors on why stopping child marriages
will improve developing economies; Jonathan Alter on why John
Kerry is the right choice for secretary of state; Pawel Swieboda
on the prospect of many European Unions.